cake, in swirling script, it said “Wonder Twins.”
I held my hand up to shush my friend. “Don’t.”
We ate the cake in silence.
Never love anybody who treats you like you’re ordinary.
Stretching my leg out as far as I could, given the narrow skirt Maggie had lent me, I launched my body across the slushy pool at the curb on the corner of 45th and 9th. Good thing she also outfitted me in her waterproof suede La Canadienne boots. I’d planned to wear wool pants and my Timberlands, but Mags put the kibosh on that, pronto. “Shayla, this isn’t Alaska, it’s the capital of the world. Men expect you to show up for a date dressed like a woman.”
“I do dress like a woman. A comfortable woman!”
The next thing I know, I was outfitted in a pair of thigh-slimming Spanx and this skirt so slim my knees touched.
The weather in the city this winter had been the worst since I’d been born. You’d think by mid-March Mother Nature would cut it out with the freezing temperatures and wintry mixes.
When I’d agreed to go out with Jordan (that’s his name – Jordan Silver, I checked his card), I hadn’t realized that this Saturday was St. Patrick’s Day. I make it a policy not to leave my apartment on it or New Year’s Eve. In Manhattan, those nights are strictly for amateurs. My oversight meant that now, on top of patches of black ice on the sidewalk, I had to dodge pools of green vomit and steer clear of gangs of college boys singing Danny Boy. I wrapped my scarf a little more tightly around my neck, headed uptown, pushing into the wind that was trying to blow me backwards.
My mind flashed back to the early morning, when I’d had every intention of canceling. Maggie caught me red-handed on the sofa with his card and my cell phone in hand. I was perfectly happy in my fuzzy robe and slippers, my overgrown hair up in a couple of chopsticks, a pile of manuscripts at the ready on the coffee table. I planned to laze around and drink coffee all morning, then get a jump on my day job by reading slush-pile submissions that I was behind on from working Ray’s book launch. There was no choice but to dig in and get on with it. “Editorial assistants who make excuses never become editors,” Hank had told me more than once. He’d either heard it from his own editor, or from some editor he dated, I couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter; I instinctively knew it was true. Come nightfall, I’d order Chinese from Foo King, and put the finishing touches on The Dumbass Guide to Motorcycle Repair so I could hand it in before Brenda’s deadline. That way, if I ever did bring up my book again, I’d be on her good side.
Before I could punch in the number, Maggie came stalking out of her room, wearing the hand-painted silk kimono Eric had brought her from a business trip to Japan, and snatched the card from my hand.
“No.”
“C’mon, Mags. I’m not up to it. I’ve got brunch tomorrow at Hank’s and I went out with you last night. Isn’t that enough for one weekend?”
“Not when you live in the city that never sleeps.”
“Well, I sleep. That’s where the city and I differ.”
“Yeah, well, you sleep alone. Why don’t you change that tonight?”
“Like I’m going to have sex with this guy whose name I can’t remember. I’m not sure I can pick him out of a crowd.”
“You don’t need to know much to strip off and slide under the covers.”
I shot her a look. Maggie knows I’m not impulsive like that.
“Have it your way. What do you know about him?”
“Nuh-thing! I have no idea why he asked me out. We weren’t even talking.”
“How about because he liked what he saw? C’mon Shay, give yourself some credit. Any guy would want you. But a lack of confidence is a turn-off. Time to prepare! You have to plan about what you’re going to say, and planning how you’ll shift the conversation if it gets boring.”
“I’m not going to do homework for a date! This is dumb. I’m canceling.” I picked up the phone and started to punch in numbers.
“You can’t cancel the day of. He’ll think you’re a bitch.”
“So?” She snatched the phone from my hand. “So? So he’s in publishing, right? New York is a small town for being a big city. For all you know, he could be your stepping stone to getting a new agent. Or he could be the assistant to an editor who’ll hire you and give you a promotion. You have to play the game.”
“I don’t want to play the game.”
“Too bad. How do you think your father got to be where he is today? He played the game.”
“He’s a man.”
“Then act like a man! That’s what I do. You don’t see me crying in a corner when an editor throws a coffee cup at my head. You don’t see me being seen and not heard when I’m around VIPs at The Frankfurt Book Fair or at famous people’s book launch parties. I do what I have to do to get ahead. That’s why I’m not a housewife in a one-horse town in Jersey. That’s why I have a novel coming out!”
“Well, I guess you’re better than I am, then,” I mumbled.
“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”
I looked away.
“Shayla! I’m on your side. Don’t curl up into a ball. Fight! I’m not tooting my own horn, I’m just underlining the fact that you can have everything I have, and more if you want it. There’s a reason you’re my best friend. My time is limited; I don’t waste it on losers. You’re funny, bright, talented, and you’ve always been an amazing problem-solver. You’re just in a slump. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps. You have it in you. And the best part is, you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here for you, Shay.”
I tried to shake off the sting of hearing the truth. “I know.”
“You’re just tired.”
“I’m always tired. Maybe being a Jersey housewife wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Sorry to have to kick your ass, but now’s not the time to rest, now’s the time to push.”
I knew she was right, deep down. “I don’t like pushing. Everything shouldn’t be this hard.”
She sighed. “Well, it is. I don’t know what to tell you. This is the way it works, Shay.” She walked over to the fridge, swung open the door and got the milk. Then she grabbed the coffee pot off of the burner. Topping up my cup, she said, “you’re going to drink that, then we’re going to my room to pick out an outfit for your date tonight. Something sleek and sexy. Then we’re going to pick out an out an outfit for when you go see Brenda on Monday. Something professional and powerful.”
“I don’t really want to go on the date, and I don’t really want to confront
